


You're the Best Friend (That I Ever Had)

by RDcantRead



Series: Stockings 2019 [2]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asthma, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Roger Taylor (Queen), Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:26:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RDcantRead/pseuds/RDcantRead
Summary: He glanced up at the top of the brightly illuminated screen and winced at the sight of the patronising two percent glaring up at him. He could call someone, but Freddie couldn’t drive, and Brian was catching up on much-needed sleep, and John didn’t deserve to have him pile his own problems on him.Breathing got harder.
Relationships: Chris "Crystal" Taylor & Roger Taylor, Chris "Crystal" Taylor/Roger Taylor
Series: Stockings 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580743
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42
Collections: DL Stockings 2019





	You're the Best Friend (That I Ever Had)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ask_catnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ask_catnip/gifts).



> Title from "You're My Best Friend" by Queen

It was a cold day. There was no snow, but icy frost covered the streets and frosty patterns decorated windows. Warm breath misted up in cool air and cold fingers trembled in shades of white and blue. 

Roger had forgotten his scarf.

It wasn’t too bad, except his lips were a worrying shade of purple and his cheeks were a pale white. His damp hair was gathering droplets of ice, and his nose was a bright red colour. His stiff fingers futilely grasped at his fluffy coat to try and wrap it tighter around his lithe body. 

His glove-covered fingers slipped on the soft fur fabric of the coat, and he cursed shakily. His blue eyes were covered by his dark sunglasses, though it was after midnight; they were fogged up with his heavy breathing, and Roger could barely see out of them.

He coughed harshly, the cold air irritating his lungs. Then he continued coughing. There was no stop to the coughing, and he could barely catch a breath. He tried to breathe in heavily after his impromptu coughing fit but failed miserably.

He pulled out his phone from the pocket of his coat and saw that it was almost one in the morning, and his apartment was still a while away. He glanced up at the top of the brightly illuminated screen and winced at the sight of the patronising two percent glaring up at him. He could call someone, but Freddie couldn’t drive, and Brian was catching up on much-needed sleep, and John didn’t deserve to have him pile his own problems on him. 

Breathing got harder.

The coughs became more frequent and painful, and his breaths came out in sore wheezes. His put his phone back in his pocket with shaking fingers and continued walking, determined to make it back home before he froze to death. 

The tightness in his chest increased. He had been feeling the tightness for a few months, but it rarely affected him other than the discomfort and slight difficulty breathing that he had been having. 

He marched stubbornly onward, though his breathing got faster and his steps got slower. 

He didn’t know what the hell was going on. Not that long ago he was having fun, flirting with girls, flirting with guys, drinking slightly. 

Now he was stranded in the middle of London in December, freezing cold, his phone on two percent, and he couldn’t breathe. Oh God, he couldn’t breathe, and he had no way to contact anyone to come help. 

He wheezed uncomfortably, his chest radiating pain and his lungs refusing to cooperate. He stopped walking, doubling over, his hand pressing down against his chest to try and get his breathing to get back on track. 

He reached into the pocket of his coat, his fingers slipping uncontrollably all over the slippery screen, fumbling with the screen lock, his gloves not helping at all. He hit the first person on the screen to call them and pressed the phone against his ear, his wheezing breaths irritating his lungs and chest.

“Hello?” A sleepy voice answered, a yawn breaking through the speakers of his phone. He had woken someone up with his ridiculousness.

He prepared himself to speak, gathering his breath as much as his lungs would allow and wheezed out something approximating a hello. He gasped for breath, feeling like a fish out of water. The world around him was dizzy and disorienting, though he could feel a wet coldness dripping down onto his face and looked up to see the sky a stormy grey, snowflakes falling from the sky. 

“...Roger,” a yawn interrupted the speech, “Why are you calling me? It’s,” another pause, Roger assumes that they’re checking the time, “Nearly two in the morning.” The pause after this is uncomfortable as Roger struggles to breathe, and the other impatiently waits for him to respond.

“I-” he takes as deep a breath as he can, “I can’t breathe…” a whimper forces its way from his mouth, his eyes filling with tears, the pace of his breaths increasing yet again. The wheezing gets louder, making its way down the line to the phone on the other side.

“Roger, where are you?” the tone is less tired and more serious, Roger can’t really tell, “Roger, please, where are you?” It’s slightly panicked and worrying.

“I- I don’t know, please Crys,” he can tell that it’s Crystal from how much clearer he sounded when he wasn’t sounding drowsy, “Please… Crys, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe...”

“Okay, Rog, can you look up for me?” Crystal’s patient, but it’s hard to follow his instructions, his vision is blurred with tears, his glasses are fogged up by his warm breaths, his head hurts from the lack of oxygen, and the world is covered in a blanket of white snow.

He manages to read off the name of the shop near him, and Crystal swears loudly, and Roger flinches away from the phone speaker, “Okay, Roggie, just stay calm, I’m going to call an ambulance, you stay there, okay?” his voice is serious, and Roger just manages to vocalise an affirmative response, before he can hear Crystal go off the line, and his trembling fingers feel the phone slip down into the snow. 

He sits down on the ground, lying horizontally, curled up into a ball; but it doesn’t help, in fact, it just makes everything worse, and the tightness increases and Roger slowly stops breathing.

As he loses consciousness, he can hear sirens screaming murder somewhere in the distance and hands manhandling him. 

He wakes up in an uncomfortable hospital bed, an oxygen mask attached to a nebuliser covering his face, he can feel the air whooshing into his lungs, his hand being taped to IV intubation. 

He struggles to sit up, but once he manages, he can see Crystal asleep next to him in the uncomfortable chair provided. He looks up at the sound of an opening door, a nurse entering the room with a clipboard. She smiles at him kindly, her hair pinned up in a high ponytail.

She comes to him and asks him questions about his breathing and tells him that a doctor will come to see him to review how he’s feeling. 

He sits back against the headboard of the bed, cushioned by the pillows she arranged for him, and she wakes Crystal up, before leaving them, promising another visit.

At least he’s got Crystal with him. That’s kinda nice. He knows that Crystal will always help him, he’s got a good friend in Crystal.


End file.
